


Temporary Bliss

by Anonoux



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Only if you squint - Freeform, PWP, Sexual Fantasy, Submissive Keith is hinted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 08:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10567071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonoux/pseuds/Anonoux
Summary: It starts off as fragments of thoughts.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was a late night drabble I wrote for @Poopue ([Twitter](https://twitter.com/poopue_) | [Tumblr](http://poopue.tumblr.com/)) one night. I was half asleep when I made it and isn't proofed at all, so if there's any typos, I apologize.
> 
> Enjoy.

It starts off as fragments of thoughts. 

Pieces by pieces of little ideas of the simplest things - moments of sparring, as Keith seeks out new techniques and helpful tips and only winds up falling more times than he'd like to admit at the visual of the other Paladin before him, sweat on his brow and a pant to his breath as Shiro attempts to gather air in his lungs. It starts off as thoughts about past missions, when Keith feels the adrenaline of a victory which is further amplified at a particularly rough pat on the back as the black paladin beams at him, face alight despite tired undertones and hints of exhaustion.

It starts off with a resigned sigh.

An admittance of a loss as a sigh escapes him, Keith's eyes drifting to the automatic doors of his room in the castle as he checks to see if it were locked, despite the fact that it was late at night and the off-chance of someone coming in at this time was slim. He worries his lip between his teeth, offering another soft exhale as he makes haste with his shirt, pulling it over his head as he tosses it haphazardly on his floor a few feet away, his pants soon joining after. He keeps the gloves on, finding that with them, he can easily imagine it were someone else's hands. Keith sits there for a few moments, before shifting, sliding down further in his blanket as he screws his eyes shut, face placid as his ears burn scarlet, and he finally allows his hands to travel.

They start off slow, his hands, starting with Keith's torso as he hesitates. He wants to trail them upward, gently grip at sensitive nubs, screwing them between digits to the point where they're completely erect and Keith finds himself releasing a silent gasp, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. And after a bit of help with an admittedly active imagination, he does. His mind wanders as he imagines he's not alone, bigger, thicker hands replacing his as he finds himself unraveling slowly with his own ministrations. Keith finds himself thinking about how Shiro would do it, too; hands slowing to the pace he imagines Shiro would go, slow and teasing, yet enough to not have the red paladin fall under impatience. He imagines calloused fingers or even the slide of cold metal against his skin, causing a shudder to wrack through him as he pinches firmly, yet not tight enough. He thinks about how, if Shiro were there, he would watch Keith with a hazy gaze, taking note of all the soft noises that bubble from him and all the tiny faces he pulls. He would watch how Keith squirms and he'd watch his cock slowly rise until it were tenting his briefs, like they were now. 

Keith continues the ministrations on his chest with one hand, the other trailing its way down to grip himself through his underwear, and despite the fabric preventing the skin-to-skin contact he craves, he still finds himself bucking into the touch, a small, albeit sharp intake of breath following soon after as he slowly starts to move his hand, stroking himself loosely so that the fabric of his briefs follow the movement, rubbing against him with a friction that makes his head spin and an accidental spill of "Shiro" escape his parted lips, swollen from him biting them without realizing.

He imagines how, if Shiro were there, he would continue to tease, until Keith has to outright ask him to "just continue on already" - something he mouths accidentally though his daze. Shiro would be slow with his movements, too, hand stopping from squeezing a now oversensitive nipple to instead slide down and fondle the edge of the elastic of his boxers before slowly tugging them off, exposing his cock to the air. Keith releases a hiss, head tilting back as he cants up his hips, allowing himself to pull down his briefs and kick them off, the fabric sprawling somewhere on his sheets by his feet. Shiro would eye his body; eyes trailing down to his cock as he mindlessly strokes at his own through his clothes - still on, because Shiro would forget to take them off in the heat of pleasing Keith, just because he's like that. Always ensuring other's happiness over his own. He would then slowly reach out and grip at Keith's own prick, already leaking with precum, and he'd thumb at Keith's head, along the slit just as he likes it.

Keith buries a moan into the pillow, face starting to pinken as he gasps into the fabric, roughly digging his thumb against the slit as a muffled, broken moan escapes him, his hips bucking up helplessly into his hand while he does so, coating his hand in pre in order to lubricate it slightly.

Shiro would offer an amused tilt of his lips, eyes alight with both lust and excitement at the sight of Keith gradually unraveling beneath him, and he'd lean down, mouth attaching to his collarbone as he shifts to full-on jerking his wrist as he fists Keith's cock with his hand, gasps and soft moans escaping him and causing his pace to quicken.

He'd be too shy at first to do so, but after a few times Shiro would start to murmur things to Keith; words of praise and compliments as Keith fucks his hand, Shiro's other slowly reaching down to grip his ass, kneading the pliant flesh for a moment before he presses a dry finger to his entrance.

Keith squirms at the feeling, not finding it to be unpleasurable in the slightest as he circles the pucker, imagining Shiro as the one doing so, his Galra hand being the one that does so as cool metal presses against his ass. Shiro would be whispering certain small things to him too, about how amazing he looks, how gone he seems already at the fact that they've yet to fully start, all the while his hand on his cock picking up speed.

Keith imagines that if they had lube, Shiro would gradually fuck him open with his fingers, until he was panting and squirming and moaning out Shiro's name helplessly, silently letting the other know that he wanted "more. I want more, Shiro" - another soft slip from his imagination to reality as Keith whispers into the quiet room.

He thinks about how Shiro would slowly enter him, filling him up -- no. His mind rewinds like that of a movie, instead imagining himself propped on all fours as Shiro rails him from behin- or how about Keith riding him, reverse cowboy, as Shiro guides him through it with murmurs and grunts if pleasure-

Or slow fucking-

Or even fucking in the dining hall after their meal when everyone else leaves-

Or pressed against a window as they watch the passing stars and planets in the castl-

Or-

Or--

And suddenly a broken sob escapes Keith, head tossed back as he chants Shiro's name like a soft mantra, voice hardly above a whisper as he feels the heels of his feet dig into his bed, helping raise him up as he arches his back. Waves of heat roll off him as Keith's entire body writhes through a tremor, his hips stuttering hopelessly as tension coils within his torso, until he's spilling ribbons of white into his hand, the aftereffects leaving him boneless through it all.

And through his dazed, exhausted mind, he can't find it in himself to feel bad, allowing his morning self to go through the fated emotions of pining and guilt at something he can't have.

**Author's Note:**

> Titles are hard.


End file.
